This tale involves a pair of shoes, revolving door and pockets. If you are in tune with the the calamitous life of my friend, i know you will already have a story mapped out in your mind. I am also quite sure, that when you hear the actual events that took place at this specific time, you will not believe that it really happened. But let me assure you, every word you read, is gospel, and i will attempt to be as accurate as possible.
Time has elapsed between this event and that of when my friend went down the rabbit hole, a good couple years actually, but we will certainly revisit the years missed in future posts, i have writers prerogative and for the sake of continuity, i have chosen this as the next event of which i will speak.
By this time, my friend has grown to a beautiful, if some what hippie young lady, still sporting the voluptuous hips, tiny waist and huge, “come save me” eyes. She dresses only in long flowing skirts and skimpy single strap tops. She does not wear panties, though is forced to wear a supportive bra. You must understand, that this is not as a result of gravity, but rather size. She forms the perfect hourglass figure, if somewhat stout and vertically challenged. We’re in our early 20’s; i say “we” because our birthdays are a day apart. And my precious friend remains gullible, in the most charming way. Pretending to be all grown up, while running amok bare foot all over town, whether at a house party or the mall, she would very seldom be seen wearing shoes. The only time she forced her tiny size 5 foot into a shoe, it was a Doc Martin boot, which was all the rage in the “alternative” life style, and this only happened when going to her favorite night club, where calamity and embarrassing moments were left in her wake. We will revisit these another time too.
For a number of years, there was a tele-marketing company that would call you up and guarantee you a weekend away at some or other resort, for you, your partner and four friends. Sounds too good to be true, well that’s because it was. In order to get your “prize” you had to attend a two hour talk, broken into a one hour collective discussion and then a personal one on one with an aggressive, hard core sales agent. It was only after you had spent this time being brow beaten into purchasing time share, that you were offered a box with a number of sealed envelopes, of which you were to choose one. This one envelope, could even possibly contain a TV, camera and other such items, or just simply the get away voucher. I believe that of the close to 50 000 of these envelopes, perhaps one contained a TV, 2 a camera and the rest the “holiday” voucher. I can hear you saying: “but that’s not a bad deal,” but wait, you’ve not heard the conditions applied to the entire transaction.
- You were to get there on your own steam
- You were to purchase dinner each night that you stayed there
- You had to be at least 26 years of age and a professional of some sort
- You had to be married
- And of course, both you and your spouse had to make the two hour presentation, which just by the way, took place across town and on specific days
Keep in mind now, that we were in our early 20’s possibly 21 or 22, but when my friend heard that she had “won a weekend getaway”, she was determined to get it! On the spur of the moment, she “confirmed” that she was at least 26 years of age, married and was gainfully employed as a professional, when in truth, she was not married and was employed as a child minder, a nanny if you will, to a lovely family with 2 lovely children and of course, only 21 years of age! She agreed to a time and day to attend the “talk” and now had to find a husband, a professional career and five years, within a four or five day period!
After convincing a close guy friend to play the part of her husband, she was left with the clothing dilemma! Remember, she no shoes other than Doc Martin’s and though she could somehow pull of the flowing skirts as professional’s wardrobe, how was she to pull off the Doc Martin’s? This challenge she solved by asking to borrow another person’s shoes. She was loaned a pair of pumps, that as it would happen, were at least a size too large. The only reason i think she was forced to wear these shoes, is because i believe that it was a last moment decision and they were the only one’s available.
They arrived at the designated site, and introduced themselves as Mr and Mrs “whatever”, trying very hard to look like the proverbial, up and coming, young professional couple. The young gentleman, who happened to be possibly 2 years older than her, was in fact a professional and worked in the IT industry, he also had a more mature face, so could pass for 26, also being in the corporate world, he had a professional wardrobe. But my sweet friend, wore borrowed shoes, her long flowing skirt and a bright cerise pink jacket, as it turned out to be a very cold and wet evening. Shall we call them, The Smith family, for the want of a surname.
So Mr and Mrs Smith, our young professional married couple, arrived about 15 mins late for the presentation and were ushered into a large hall, with lines and lines of chairs facing the front where a person stood giving them the benefits of time share. They seated themselves at the back, as naughty children always do, and chatted and giggled throughout the entire presentation. I neglected to mention that, before they had even left for the presentation, our dear Mr Smith was already well on his way to total intoxication, and he was very funny when intoxicated!
After they had been stared at and admonished for making so much noise throughout the presentation, they were “collected” by a sales agent, who introduces himself and lead the way to the sales office, which was up a flight of stairs. When my friend feels a little out of place, she would hide her hands in her pockets, which is precisely what she did on this specific day, the pockets in her bright cerise pink anorak. While making their way, my friend taking two steps for every one of “her husband’s” and the sales agent, she suddenly realized that she had walked right out of the newly acquired pumps, leaving them in her wake. Quickly she double backed and slipped them back over her tiny feet and rushed to make the stairs before she was to lose the team ahead. Taking the stairs as quickly and safely possible, she proceeded up to the sales office.
Mr Smith explains what he heard next as a “ooh” and dead thud! He quickly turned, leaving the confused sales man to look on in disdain as he made his way to his fallen “wife.” That’s right, somehow my friend had managed to fall UP stairs! With her hands still firmly embedded within her pockets, she was unable to stop her fall and went down / up, face first. She had pinned herself in this rather embarrassing position, as she was unable to remove her hands that were now securely pinned under her! Of course, Mr Smith started to laugh, as he was also familiar with my friends calamitous life, and she could be heard laughing a muffled laugh into the plush carpets of the sales office stairway. Eventually, Mr Smith, being quite a strong young man, physically lifted her to her feet and righted her again, and as though nothing unusual or out of the ordinary had just happened, they proceeded to the designated area with their salesman.
They politely listened to the reasons and counter acting reasons as given by the sales agent, until eventually he accepted that they would have to go home and “discuss it over their finances before making any commitments”. When the agent realized that there was no sales here, he called over to the supervisor, who brought over the illustrious box of prize envelopes and they drew. Now to be able to tell you that they picked one of the bigger prizes, would be great, but also a lie. They were given the weekend giveaway at one of the timeshare resorts they had just declined purchasing. But my friend was happy, she had achieved her objective, and fortunately, not once, were they asked to produce their ID or other personal identification, so they could leave, prize in hand and thoughts of the weekend away!
This time though, my friend held tight to the railing, so as not to fall down the stairs, reached the landing without incident and proceeded to the exit. This door was kept closed by a newly put up hydraulic spring which just pushed it closed if anyone had neglected to pull it shut behind them. She was almost there, the finish line in sight, her “prize” securely stowed away in Mr Smith’s pants pocket, and only perhaps another four regular steps to victory! Mr Smith was leading the way, and reached the door before she had. Being as short as she is, she would quite comfortably pass below the armpit of her close guy friend and often did, as he held various and numerous doors open for her, so as she neared the door, that Mr Smith had already opened , she turned to say “good bye” and … no she didn’t walk into the door, she walked under her friend’s arm just a couple seconds too late! He had already released the door and it had started it’s rapid return to the closed position. The velocity with which this door hit my friend from behind, propelled her, without breaks onto the parking lot, almost knocking her to her face, but instead she buried her face into the back of her friend, who by standing where he was at that second, saved my friend the pain and embarrassment of the pavement! As though this would have been any more embarrassing than her evening had already been.